Beginning Again
by EhCanuck
Summary: After Steve is attacked he ends up living in house with all sorts of strange and crazy people as he tries to come to terms with what happened to him and what he should do now that everything has changed. A mythology AU where Tony takes in far too many strays, Steve is confused and JARVIS wishes he could take on solid form.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own the Avengers or anything else referenced in this, just my plot.**

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><p>It always rains before something big, good or bad, happens.<p>

Steve isn't sure why, but it sure as hell always seems to.

It had been raining when he had taken his first step (according to his mother).

When his father had died due to alcohol poisoning when he was a child, it had been pouring rain.

It had been drizzling when he had got his first job.

When his mother had quietly passed due to pneumonia when he was fifteen, it had been raining.

It had been thunderstorming the day he had graduated high school, top of his grade and with the highest marks ever received by a student at the school.

When he had _lost _his first job it had been raining.

There had been a torrential downpour the day he had gotten accepted at the University of New York for a double major in History and Fine Arts.

When he got his first apartment there was a sort of misty rain.

Later when he looked back on it, he would suppose that's why there was a veritable deluge that day when he left his job at the bookstore for the night.

The day that changed _everything_.

His buddy Dernier was supposed to pick him up from work for the 'Commandos' biweekly poker night but one garbled call later (bad connection due to the storm) had him with no immediate ride. The Frenchman had had to take a slight detour as one of his co-workers with whom he carpooled with had gone into premature labour on the highway and they had had to go to the hospital. He and the other fellow were waiting with her until her husband could get there so she wouldn't be alone and in labour.

Fair and very understandable.

However, looking out at the rain had him wishing for a moment that Dernier wasn't such a good guy before feeling awful for thinking such a thing.

Steve looked down at his watch and groaned when he saw it was another half hour before the next bus arrived. His phone was no longer getting signal and the store didn't have one so calling one of the other guys or a cab was out. He could go back inside but that would mean disabling the alarm and would only delay his problem.

That then left him with only one option: walk.

Which wasn't too bad really, sure he had asthma and his immune system was crap but one little walk in the rain couldn't hurt, right? It was summertime and warm out so running and the rain shouldn't trigger an attack and his flat was twenty minutes away by foot, even less than that if he took shortcuts. He could then call Morita or a cab from there or at least grab a change of clothes and an umbrella before walking over to Dugan's. With a look up at the sky, he had decided against any shortcuts, realizing that the route would be incredibly muddy and slippery.

Instead he had begun jogging home, his sneakers quickly becoming soaked along with the rest of him as he ran through puddles on the sidewalk and on the road. About ten minutes from home, it had begun to rain even harder, making it difficult to see and he had then decided to pause for a moment, feeling his chest tighten a bit, a sign that he was pushing it.

So he had slowed to a walk and then ducked under a nearby tree in front of the municipal offices before he took a draw on his inhaler (just to be on the safe side) and then waited for his body to settle. He fished out his cell again and sighed, disappointed when still no service bars showed as thunder rolled overhead. He would've ducked into the municipal offices at that point to wait out the storm a bit but the doors were locked, business hours having finished an hour before. He had been half-tempted to go to one of the nearby houses and asking for shelter but had decided against it; he was only ten minutes away.

Feeling better, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and began to run again, shivering as a light wind picked up, his clothes plastered to his skin not providing him with any protection.

He was about a block away when _It _happened. One minute he was fine and then the next he couldn't tell which way was up or down as this huge weight crashed into him, sending them both flying into an alley. Instinctively he kicked out, separating them in what felt like an eternity as he flew through the air and hit the ground hard, all the air rushing out of his lungs as he did so.

He lay there dazed on the ground for a moment; his chest painfully tight as he struggled to breathe. Coming to his senses, his breath coming in in gasps and wheezes, he rolled onto his front and fumbled to get his backpack off while awakening nerves began screaming in protest, alerting him of the state of his abused body. He groped in the dark for the right pocket in a panic for his inhaler as he fought to keep the terror at bay and to draw in a breath, for his lungs to expand and his throat to open.

As soon as he managed to depress the button, he began to feel his body begin to relax as the medication began it's work allowing him to draw in some air for his starving lungs. That soon, however, became the least of his problems as on his panic during the asthma attack, he had completely forgotten what had caused it.

He had quickly remembered as a withered hand clenched around his throat and another hauled on his jacket, impossible strength pulling him into the shadows.

He couldn't and still can't quite remember what happened after that; he could recall sensation more then anything truly.

Despite the deceptively pleasant floaty feeling that blurred everything, he was sure he would never forget the sharp pain as teeth tore into his throat, the too-strong hands keeping him from struggling and feeling life drain from his body as warm rain fell from overhead.

Nor would he forget the feeling of the a massive roar rang in the air, the sound filling his head and resonating in his bones as the light blinded him. In what felt like forever but was probably only a second, he realized he was falling to the ground while all his muscles seized and a massive shock ran through him. When he hit the ground in a lifeless heap, smoke coming off his clothing and body and his shoes blown off, all of his hair on end; some part of his mind had recognized it:

He had been hit by lightening.

Or rather, whatever the hell had been on top of him had been hit by lightening and the charge had carried through to him. He knew that he needed to move but as he couldn't really control his limbs, he was barely able to push himself up, let alone move anywhere.

When he had collapsed on the ground once more, his muscles giving up on him, he had thought it to be the end. He could feel blood rolling down his neck while the rain soaked him and the smoke triggered his asthma again. He was only twenty-three and didn't want to die but he was helpless; no matter how strong his will was, he was still at the mercy of his body. To make matters even worse, as his vision began to go grey and fuzzy and he struggled for air, a small fire seemed to spark in his veins and he moaned weakly in pain as it grew and began to spread around his body.

Caught up in his pain, he missed the sounds of a fight breaking out and the death throes of the creature that bit him; though he did hear footsteps crunching on the gravel and a warm hand (that had shocked him at first contact!) pressing down on the wound on his neck.

He opened his eyes to see a blurry figure illuminated from behind by the streetlamp. This was not the creature that attacked him.

"He lives yet?" A warm tenor voice exclaimed, surprised. "Lady! I have need of your aid!" He heard hooves approach behind him before someone cursed heavily and the creak of leather hinted at the person getting off the animal as he then heard the two voices speak in low tones. He stopped paying attention; closing his eyes as the world spun, all sound seemed to come from a distance away and his body caught fire completely, every nerve screaming at him in pain.

"Do not fret valiant Thor, you have indeed vanquished the creature. It appears the youth is special; his name is not in my ledger yet so I will take him by the Sanctuary; the good Healer will be able to aid him."

Yep, looking back on it, it made sense that it was raining that day, the day that changed _everything._

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><p><strong>The description of him getting hit by lightening was borrowed in part from real life accounts, I hope I did it justice. <strong>

**This is my first time writing these characters, please let me know if I'm making any of them OOC.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own the Avengers or anything else referenced in this, just my plot.**

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><p>He woke up.<p>

That kind of surprised him.

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><p>Perhaps the term 'woke up' wasn't quite accurate.<p>

He opened his eyes to an ocean of stars which couldn't be right as he could feel a bed beneath him and you couldn't see the stars so clearly near the city... His confusion didn't last long as when he tried to shift his position a little, his nerves informed him how much pain he was in and he passed out again.

After that, he... drifted. Most times he was not really aware of his body or anything, just peaceful white noise until he came back to himself again.

He could feel the soft sheets he was lying on, the pillow under his head and could see the patterns soft light drew on his eyelids but after his initial try, he wasn't much inclined to try to move, wasn't even sure if he could. He was somewhat aware of time passing, of low voices talking, of the sounds that they made as they picked things up, put them down or moved around the room, but couldn't really bring himself to care. After all, any time he tried not to focus, to push past the fog in his mind, he became _especially_ aware of the itch at his throat and how his body felt like it was hit by a semi. It was like his body was made of lead and every nerve was on fire; no matter how he tried, he couldn't even twitch to put it out.

He knew he was fading in and out of consciousness but everything _hurt. _It was hard to make himself try to hang on to reality when letting go meant a break from the pain and being aware meant unable to scratch the itch, to put out the fire, to ease the ache in his muscles.

He felt himself fade away again and let go with relief.

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><p>"How is he?" A dark haired man with mischievous eyes and a goatee asked, curious, as he and another man walked down the hall to the kitchen.<p>

"Better than expected, he'll actually survive for starters." The man with curly brown hair and glasses said tiredly as he opened some of the cupboards and began to pull ingredients down. "He's very lucky."

The tenor snorted, as he sat on one of the stools and leaned on the counter; watching the other man bustle around. "I don't know if luck is really a word I'd use in this case. He's going to have a bad a time adjusting as you did I think."

"Quite possibly, I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case." The scruffier man replied dryly, turning on an element and putting a wok on it with a bit of oil before pulling some cooked chicken breast out of the fridge."but judging by what background we were able to find on him, he'll manage to adjust. From the sound of things, he's rather stubborn and optimistic if nothing else."

"Sounds like about he'll fit in with the other bullheaded squatters around here" The goateed man replied with a laugh, spinning around as much as the stool allowed before spinning the other direction.

"You love us." The baritone replied, adding vegetables to the stir-frying meat.

"Lies! Lies and Slander!" The other proclaimed, jokingly aghast, placing a hand over his heart and pointing dramatically with the other. "What kind of falsehoods have you been spreading about me? I tolerate you lot at best!"

"You love us." Glasses rumbled back, amused before pointing to the man on the stool with the spatula. "Admit it or no stir fry for you."

"I don't... _dislike_ you, oh blackmailer and withholder of tasty food." Was the snarky reply he got in return, "Now gimme."

"You're ridiculous." Said blackmailer replied as he put a bowl in front of his friend before changing the subject. "Going back to our comatose patient, do you know if Natasha was able to contact her friend? Considering how out of our depths we are, he might prove invaluable."

"She hasn't heard back from her contacts yet, hopefully she will before he begins to wake. Much as I hate to admit it, you're right." Goatee replied through bites, "Mmm, Bruce, I gotta get you to cook for me more often."

"Sirs?" A soft British tenor called, "if you could make you're way to the sick rooms, your guest is waking up."

The two shared a look, "I guess we'll be making it up as we go then." A wide grin spread across the tenor's face before he quickly wolfed down the rest of his meal before he hopped down and turned on his heel and began walking. "Excellent, it's what I do best."

"Should I call the contractors now then?" Bruce sighed, resigned before quickly finishing his own and he hurried to catch up. "Or wait until everything is on fire again?"

"You know Brucie, your lack of faith in me is disturbing." The other playfully commented, holding the door for the other.

"It's not so much lack of faith as it is experience Tony." The man said haughtily with a sniff, hiding his amusement. "Your capacity for destruction is second only to your ability to create and, inevitably, both options always seem to involve a lot of explosions."

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><p>He mentally tensed as he felt himself 'slip' into his skin again, slowly regaining consciousness but was relieved when there was no pain and no ache. There were parts of him that still...itched, but that was fine. He could deal with that.<p>

He tried to move again and felt a surge of delight pass through him when he realized his body was slowly responding.

Steve gingerly opened his eyes and blinked, confused, looking up at the ceiling. It wasn't his ceiling nor that of the local hospital (which he had memorized by the time he was six, considering how often he was a patient); it was painted to look like the night sky – which explained his earlier recollection – and it was also considerably higher...

Where was he?

He tried to sit upright but it was like all of his energy was gone and his limbs still felt as if they were tied to heavy weights resulting in a sort of twitch-flop that had him staring at the ceiling again. After a few tries, he found that trying to move too many muscles at once was beyond him so while individual fingers would cooperate, his arm wouldn't and what he could still slowly move, there was no grace or speed to the motion. Dammit.

"Ah, you're awake!" A warm, slightly accented voice sounded to his left, Steve tried to turn his head to see the man but couldn't. "That is good! Very good! Jarvis? Would you mind fetching the others?"

He heard a few clinks and a weird shuffing sound before the voice continued. "We were starting to think you might sleep forever. How are you feeling?"

Steve tried to answer but his mouth felt like it was cotton, the itch was back and all that came out was a pained groan.

"Ah yes, what was I thinking?" The voice bemoaned, though it still sounded amused. "A moment please." Then he heard the clicking of a door, then one or two steps followed by a series of crashing and cursing before the room was silent again.

The hell? What kind of madhouse had he ended up in?

Blinking, he jumped as in that second someone else appeared at his bedside and was now looming over him.

"Sorry about that sir, the three of them are overexcited and tend to have a very one track mind as a result."

Steve looked up at him, confused, trying to bring the man's features into focus before feeling his stomach drop as he realized that the man was, well, see-through. And floating.

_Well, it was no longer too far fetched that he had simply died; _he thought as his brain overloaded trying to process the sight before him before giving up and he felt himself drift again as the world slowly faded to black and he fainted.

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><p><strong>So what do you think? First time writing these guys and am still getting a feel for the characters, hopefully haven't botched it too badly.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own the Avengers or anything else referenced in this, just my plot.**

**Sorry I don't have a beta, if there are any errors or parts aren't clear, please let me know so I can fix them.**

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><p>"Oh dear." Jarvis said, sounding flustered.<p>

'What?...Oh Jarvis, _buddy_." Tony commented, amused yet sympathetically as he finally managed to enter the room, approach their patient and make an educated guess as to what just happened. "I don't think he was ready to see you yet."

He had gotten excited and decided to race Bruce as their medical room was on the opposing side of the house from the kitchens. It had been a little embarrassing that he had managed to not only slip and fall but also took out both his close friend and Doctor Erskine (who was coming around the corner); causing them to crash into one of the shelves in the hall.

Most embarrassing and not at all dignified, especially for someone his age.

Slightly more embarrassing was how both took it in stride; as though they were _used_ to such happenings around his enormous home. Which, of course, was totally untrue. Except for that one time... or when...still. It didn't happen often enough that they should just be able to roll with it, right?

Right.

Now his old friend was hovering over the bed and looking a little distraught that the kid had passed out. Knowing Jarvis as well as he did, he bet the other was wishing he was tangible. Again. Though it was likely the first time in a while that he wasn't wishing it so he could stop Tony as he did not share his delight for explosions.

"If you've had no experience with the supernatural, waking up with a ghost floating overhead is probably too much." He said as he passed by, patting the air above Jarvis's shoulder in sympathy. "I'm sure it wasn't because of you personally."

The man slumped, "I am aware sir, just for a moment, I forgot."

"S'okay Jarvis." Tony said as he leaned over the bed to examine the heart rate monitor, "Could happen to, WHOA!" He was startled when the boy, still unconscious, surged upward with a snarl only to be stopped by the restraints on his wrists and ankles. Instinctively jerking back and retreating a bit, he stared as the kid went limp again and slumped into the mattress.

"We thought that might happen." Dr. Erskine observed, causing Tony to jump having not realized that the other was behind him. "It's why we used restraints and only Jarvis and I have been involved in his treatment so far."

"What?" Tony asked, looking warily at Steve as Dr. Erskine picked up the folder on the shelf and jotted a few things down before closing it.

"He was bitten by a vampire." Jarvis replied slowly, as though to a child. "We were hoping he had not been accidentally turned when Thor interrupted the creature's feeding and was instead just experiencing some previously unknown side effects but it has become evident that that is not the case."

"So he's now either a thrall or fully a vampire?" Bruce asked sadly from the side, knowing that if that were the case, the brilliant, caring young adult he'd read about in the papers was gone and was instead little more than a rabid dog. Thralls were created by vampires to serve them and were mindless slaves (to their instincts and maker), hungry for blood; quite similar to zombies actually. Vampires weren't much better being much closer to how they were described in folklore instead of more modern stories, ruthless predators they were just self-aware, slightly intelligent and driven by their hunger.

"Not exactly." Dr. Erskine answered delicately. "We were hoping at first that he'd remain human but within hours of his arrival his heart rate began slowing and his core temperature dropped. I'd say his state now is similar to that of hibernating animals; his heart rate has stabilized at six beats per minute, breathes once every two minutes and his temperature seven degrees below standard. Considering he survived the vampire's death (which he wouldn't have if he had been made into a thrall) and that his heart didn't stop completely, we were then hoping he'd been turned into a Dhampir or something similar. I'm glad now that we decided to err on the side of caution with the restraints as, given his reaction just now, it would seem he thirsts for blood and is certainly then not qualify as a Dhampir or anything like that."

They sat in silence for a moment before Dr. Erskine continued, "Essentially, we've no idea what the young man has been changed into. I've never heard of anything like it and Yinsen's been looking through the archives and cannot find anything either...Tony, you've been around much longer than I, have you ever run into or heard of a vampire or creature like him?"

"No." Tony answered slowly as he gradually sorted through his memories. "I can't say I have. Though my memories isn't the greatest and most undead tend to avoid me...No, from what I can recall, any type of vampire or undead I've seen are about the same: they die when they are turned and they look it. Pale skin, hallowed eyes, long nails, red eyes, cool to the touch, tend to have lost quite a bit of hair..." He trailed off, before continuing. "They always looked like the monsters they were whereas Steve now appears to be in the pinnacle of health."

"Exactly." Dr, Erskine said, nodding. "We knew he was at least affected by the bite but in a completely different way. It is possible he may still be able to stand in the sun without being injured, eat garlic, retain his consciousness as a human and avoid the more animalistic instincts that vampires have."

"You mean like he'll be more like Dracula?" Bruce asked thoughtfully. "You know, like one of those fictional more debonair, seductive, aristocratic-y type vampires?"

"It's possible." Jarvis replied with a nod. "We're essentially flying blind though so practically anything is."

"Regardless," Dr. Erskine quickly dismissed the thought before any outrageous theories could be voiced, "returning to the subject at hand. Until he wakes, we will not know how much of Steve Rogers remains and we know that he is hungry judging by his reaction to you Tony. As such, we must be cautious."

"Cautious how?" Tony asked warily. He didn't like that word, it led to annoying restrictions and boring rules.

"Well to start," Jarvis replied drily, knowing exactly what he was thinking "the restraints remain in place. And I must insist that both Doctor Bruce and yourself along with Mr. Yinsin stay a distance away from him until we can determine his level of consciousness and control."

"Yes." Dr. Erskine confirmed before repeating. "He's hungry, and as you are warm blooded, your scents must be like a siren's song to him. Jarvis and I will alternate keeping watch as I'm cold blooded and less likely to awaken those instincts and Jarvis, given he is a ghost and has no blood, if he does wake, he can explain and answer any questions without driving him mad with thirst."

"Huh. So I should look into getting some blood bank donations up here then, yeah?" Tony mused, clearly lost in thought before looking over to where Dr. Erskine was, Jarvis hovering behind him and asked curiously "...Any specific kind? A? AB? O? Does the whole positive/negative thing matter? ...Should I even get human or should I get animal instead? If animal, should it be mammal cause of the whole 'warm-blooded' thing at least or would any kind do?"

"Any kind you could get should be fine." Jarvis replied drily, having been around Tony the longest, he was the fastest at processing the ramble. "A variety might even be preferable as if Mr. Rogers remains, I'm sure he would at least appreciate a choice."

"Yes, good." Tony said absentmindedly, his thoughts clearly already far away as he wandered out of the room. "A variety. I can do that, I wonder if Jane still volunteers at the blood bank. Wait, don't they store it in freezers? Would you have to microwave it to reheat it?...Ohhhh, I should contact Frigga and see if..."

"Is there anything I can do?" Bruce asked after a moment deciding against following his scatter-brained friend. When Tony saw a challenge, he tended to go a bit overboard and Bruce had already done his duty reeling him in for the day. Let someone else try to contain the whirlwind that was Tony Stark for now.

"Not at the moment." Dr. Erskine replied, flipping through Steve's folder again. "It will depend on how the poor boy wakes, if he's still himself or if the vampire venom did non-visible damage. Though if our best case scenario occurs, I'm sure you will be invulnerable considering he will likely be running into many of the same problems you did."

Bruce nodded, he could do that.

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><p>Steve gradually woke again, his brain feeling fuzzy and slow and stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment before slowly blinking.<p>

So, still not dead.

That was good.

"Good morning Steve." A somewhat familiar (though he couldn't place it) tenor voice with a crisp RP English accent sounded to his left. "I apologize for startling you earlier, how are you feeling?"

Startling him?

Startling?

Thinking was hard...Was like swimming through molasses as he tried to piece his thoughts and words together.

"Di..." He licked his lips when his voice came out as a croak, his mouth dry and his tongue feeling clumsy as he did so before trying again.

"Did you get the plates of the truck that ran me over?" He slowly rasped.

"We did." The voice replied. Was there a note of vindictive satisfaction in there? "He will not be hurting anyone again."

Well that was good.

"If you'll wait a moment, I will go fetch the Doctor."

Steve didn't respond and blinked slowly up at the ceiling again as he felt his brain slowly start up. It was like he was on dial-up or something, he could almost hear the annoying dialling sound as his brain slowly made the connections and booted up.

What had happened?

It had been game night and it had been raining.

...Dernier had been running late as he'd had to stop at the hospital so he'd decided to make his own way home.

...Did he actually make it home?

Steve thought, the night was a bit of a blur...he was pretty sure he hadn't. It had been raining..._warm water splashing on his skin as his body cried in agony._

Had he actually been hit by a car? ..._a heavy weight came crashing into him, knocking him onto the pavement and into the wall._

Is that why he had a Doctor?...s_trong hands gripping him, holding him down, can't get away_

How badly was he hurt? ..._teeth tore at his throat and there was pain pain pain pain._

"Take a deep breath...and out. And again, in...and out." The strong smell of mint under his nose tore him out of his thoughts along with a soothing baritone. "Ah, there we are. It appeared you were having a small panic attack, are you alright?"

Steve was at a loss, he still didn't really know what happened and he was certain that he didn't know the answer to that question either so instead he just shrugged.

"Well then, I am Doctor Abraham Erskine, do you remember who you are?"

"Steve, Steve Rogers." He croaked.

"Good, good." The voice said and he heard papers shuffling. "What is the year?"

"You testing me for a concussion doc? 2014. President's Obama and we're in New York City in the United States."

"Excellent." Erskine said, sounding pleased. "Now then, explanations. First off, I may startle you but I promise that I will not harm you so please do not panic."

What?

The comment made sense shortly after as an older gentleman with wispy salt and pepper hair, a receding hairline, beard and glasses leaned over into his line of sight. It wouldn't have been so startling if he didn't have slight scaling on his visible skin and if his pupils weren't slit, like a cats.

While he started, he squashed the panic rising in him. Explanations. He had been promised an explanation. This would all make sense, he was sure. Maybe he'd been slipped a new hallucinogenic drug and this was some sort of side effect?

The Doctor gave a small smile at his reaction and began. "You are presently in a home for what you would see as mythological creatures. I am a Naga, a _Vipera aspis_ to be exact and as you may have noted, am half man, half snake. On your way home July 17, you were attacked by a vampire." At Steve's incredulous look, he repeated. "Yes, a vampire though likely not one as you know them. To us they are like a rabid predator, while they have some intelligence and self-awareness, they have no control or restraint and are driven by their instinct to hunt; nothing like you read about in Dracula or Anne Rice's books. Typically when we find traces of one in the area, we try to hunt it down and kill it before it can attack anyone. We were not able to find him in time and he found you instead."

Steve's mind raced at the implications of this, "Really? So...am I? I mean, what does...How?" He trailed off helplessly, not knowing how to ask or even _what _to ask. He tried to bring a hand up to run his fingers through his hair, habitual gesture when he's stressed and was startled when his hand jerked to a halt.

He was restrained?

"I apologize Mr. Rogers for the restraints but we were not too sure what happened to you exactly and feared you might be a danger to yourself or others that live here. I can remove the ones on your wrists but for the time being, would you allow the ankle ones to remain?"

Steve nodded numbly, danger? This was a bit too much.

"Perhaps it is best to start at the beginning..." Erskine mused. "So typically when a vampire bites..."

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><p>Steve leaned back against the now angled medical bed, feeling very overwhelmed, his fingers tangled in his hair.<p>

Good news was that he was still Steve Rogers as far as they could tell.

Bad news was he might still be a crazy blood thirsty monster, a tickling time bomb. As far as anyone knew, the vampire's venom could turn him completely any time and he'd attack whoever was closest. He might be able to age, he might be able to go out in the sun, he might be able to still eat normal food, he might also be burned if a cross touched his skin or garlic and he might only die if a stake was driven through his heart and he was beheaded. His case was completely unique and no one knew why he was different.

His traitorous stomach growled and he was all too aware how dry his mouth and throat was; Erskine looked at him sympathetically.

"The owner of this house did his best to find you something you could eat. In fact he went a little overboard if you're ever feeling particularly adventurous." He said as he got up and strode across the room and began to fumble around just out of sight of Steve. A few second later, Steve heard a beep and Dr. Erskine came back holding two translucent sippy-cups. "But why don't we just start with the basics. Out of the known vampire species, a number exist on animal blood, specifically cow." He lifted one cup before gesturing with the other. "Then we have the classic human blood-bank B-positive."

Steve stared at him incredulously before steeling himself and took both cups; this was his reality now, this was his body and being squeamish was not going to help any. He sniffed at both, neither smelt _bad_ but neither smelt all that appealing either, just of iron. Taking a deep breath, he brought the cow one up and took a sip.

Not bad. Still, he didn't really want to think about it and instead asked, "Can I ask a question?"

"Just one?" Erskine replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Why me?" He whispered, the thought that had plagued him since he had begun to believe the Doctor. "Why did it attack me?"

"I suppose that is the only one that matters." Dr. Erskine said with a sigh, putting his pen down. "Who knows? Maybe you were just convenient, maybe you smelt good, maybe for whatever it was that save your life. Perhaps because you were a little guy and an easy target or because you are a good man and that made your blood more appealing. I'm sad to say Steve that I have no answers for you."

"Oh." Steve murmured, putting the now empty cup down on the side table and hunched, feeling miserable. "So what now? I can't just go back to my old life, not looking like this, with no answers and not knowing if I could snap and massacre everyone. What do I do?"

"Stay here of course." Came a new voice from across the room and a fairly young middle aged man with brown hair, a goatee and wicked smirk walked into view. "Name's Tony, mi casa es su casa and all that; my home is already open to all sorts of strays, you'll fit right in."

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><p><strong>RP - Received Pronunciation: this is what is viewed as a standard English accent for most people outside of the UK and is a non-regional accent but rather the sort of 'gold-standard' for pronunciation in school's and formal speaking.<strong>

**I can post descriptions of the various mythological creatures that will be appearing in this, would that be something you as a reader would like?**

**Jarvis: Ghost  
><strong>**Erskine: Naga**


	4. Chapter 4

**At the moment there is no pairings planed for this just to let you know. Sorry for the belated update, it's been a very busy few months.**

**I don't own the Avengers or anything else referenced in this, just my plot (or lack thereof).**

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><p>"What am I going to do?" Steve asked, miserable.<p>

"Stay here of course." Came a new voice from across the room and a fairly young middle aged man with brown hair, a goatee and wicked smirk walked into view. "Name's Tony, mi casa es su casa and all that; my home is already open to all sorts of odd and dangerous strays, you'll fit right in."

Steve couldn't help but stare at the other man, slightly stunned. Stay here? He supposed he could, it wasn't like he could go home and there wasn't anywhere else to go. And who else better to understand the problems he was having then other...creatures like him.

Though, speaking of that, Tony looked completely normal; completely human.

Aware of his scrutiny, the man in question just raised a brow and smirked causing Steve to flush, embarrassed. Or it felt like he blushed...could he still blush now?

"Tony!", Erskine admonished, though he sounded resigned. "You are not supposed to be in here yet."

"Relax Doc," Tony replied, taking another step into the room. "I'm staying over here, out of reach and downwind for the moment so to speak. Just figured we're going to have to test out the warm-blooded thing when conscious and rational so why not now? It's not like he would have an easy time trying to overpower _me_."

"You are playing with fire." Erskine cautioned, clearly uncomfortable. "He has just woken, must you also test his self-control?"

"It's one of my favourite pastimes." Tony replied with a toothy grin.

Listening to the pair bickering, Steve assumed they were talking about him and while he wasn't entirely sure what the downwind comment was about, he guessed whatever it was concerned his new status somehow. He knew that they were not trying to be cruel (or at least that was his gut instinct) but he got the impression that he was being unconsciously viewed as a deaf lab rat. He was drawn from his thoughts when the olive skinned man took a few steps closer.

The movement caused Steve to stiffen as once he got within a few meters distance he immediately could smell iron, heat and..._food_. As the scent registered, he unconsciously licked his lips and felt his incisors lengthen before his stomach growled embarrassingly loud. Oh he was suddenly ravenous and Tony (and it had to be Tony) smelt so damn _tasty. _It took a few attempts but within a minute he was able to push the hunger down.

"You smell good." Steve commented dryly and as nonchalantly as he could after a moment. "Very good. Um, I don't suppose either of you happen to have another glass of cow's blood on you, would you? I'm suddenly really hungry."

"Success!" Tony brightened and fistpumped before he turned to Erskine. "That's a good start, but I am becoming more convinced that he's no more dangerous when awake then anyone else that lives here. Just when he gets hungry-angry (or huangry) he's more instinctive; he just needs to be kept well fed..." Then he turned back to Steve and began to ramble, "so you liked the cow's blood? Was there much difference between it and the human? Would you be willing to try any other kinds? While cow is personal favourite, sheep is also quite good..."

"It was good." Steve replied slowly, "though that it was blood I was eating was a little disconcerting...Um, there was a slight difference in taste and sure I'll take whatever you have handy, I'm _hungry_."

"A higher metabolism..." Erskine murmured, pen scratching on Steve's file as Tony quickly vanished and then reappeared with a tray of sippy cups. "and eyes go red when hungry..."

This was unknown ground, Steve reminded himself as he sipped from one of the new cups slowly, experiments were necessary for all that they made him feel like a time bomb.

* * *

><p>Eventually Erskine was able to shoo Tony out of the med bay though not before he further tested Steve's limits by getting close and 'accidentally' cutting himself, hated the tasty of fish blood and discovering that he could eat 'normal' food but only in very small quantities before his stomach rebelled. Once the door closed, the Naga sighed and turned back towards Steve before shrugging.<p>

"For all that he is among the oldest and strongest that I know, sometimes he acts like an overgrown toddler." He commented wryly before undoing the ankle restraints. "Anyway, I think that after all of that, we can be rid of these for now. If you begin to feel...less like yourself we can come back or try to find another solution."

Steve nodded before he turned sideways so his feet were dangling off the side of the bed and then gingerly getting to his feet. There was a moment if vertigo as if he stood too quickly and then Steve stared around the room in surprise.

It seemed, it seemed _off _; the sense of wrongness niggled at him until he realized that nothing was at the height it should be or he was _taller_...

Then it hit him.

His hand flew his back to trace where his spine used to bend but his fingers couldn't find it at all, it was like his scoliosis...his spine was straight!

But that wasn't the sole thing that had changed. He had been so wrapped up in what had happened and what he might become that he hadn't noticed how _different _his world suddenly was. He had no idea how he hadn't noticed how easy it was to hear Erskine, Jarvis and Tony when they were talking to him; that he hadn't had to ask them to talk on his left side (his hearing side) or speak up but he hadn't. He looked around the room again, his expression changing from perplexed and confused to one of delight as with each passing moment he noted more and more changes.

His astigmatism was gone and it seemed he was no longer a deuteranope, each detail of the room sharp and clear and vibrant with colours he had only a name for before: he could see blue-green glass jars, light blue sheets, orange sanitized containers, bright green pillows, pink scrubs and _red, _lovely red bed frames, books, and vials of blood. Before the world had largely been a kaleidoscope of yellow, dark blue, brown and grey as one who was red-green colourblind and it was almost overwhelming how different the world looked. He took a deep breath and couldn't help the elated laugh that came out or foolish grin that seemed to stretch only wider. Oh he could breathe, his lungs working like they never had for him before, each breath coming easily...it was a little bit of a shame that he didn't need to breathe so often now.

He supposed that he was now anaemic in an entirely different way but he couldn't bring himself to care as his heart problems were gone, his senses were heightened and he could _breathe_.

Steve looked over at Erskine and asked a little breathlessly if they had a mirror nearby.

They had a full length one in the bathroom and when Steve opened the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. That couldn't be him. He turned his head to look at Erskine and the tall, muscled man in the mirror turned his head as well to look at a Naga...so he slowly raised a hand then another and slowly came to terms that he now looked like he could've been carved out of marble or popped into being from an anatomy guidebook.

Hell, he could probably run a mile now with his lungs and non-flat feet!

"Holy shit." He breathed, disbelieving; unable to look away from his reflection. "Holy _shit!_"

Not really one for vanity, Steve allowed himself to stare in shock for only a few minutes before he forced himself to move on. Erskine, in the meantime, had used to the time to both give him privacy and to fetch him some scrubs to wear and a hoodie rather than the openbacked smock he had been wearing.

Accepting the clothes, he took off the smock with increasingly shaky hands and dropped it and the scrubs to the ground. He then steadied his hands on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror again (he was so _tall_ and his freckles were gone!); it was almost too much to take in.

(It was too much.)

The changes were wonderful, a miraculous cure he'd dreamed of since he was a kid and knew what those pitying expressions meant, but they weren't something he'd decided or agreed too. This new body was not one he'd volunteered for and, if he was completely honest with himself, he isn't entirely sure he would have chosen this for himself if he'd a choice. For all that they were largely positive changes, he was now a creature that survived off blood, one who could possibly snap and go into a frenzy and it was rather unlikely that he would be able to recover any part of the life he had built for himself.

He hadn't dared ask yet; it seemed as if deep pit opened up in front of him at the thought of finding out and caused his stomach to sink right down to his toes. Soon he would. Soon he would be brave enough to find out everything. Like how many days had it been since he was attacked? Did they think him missing? Kidnapped? Dead? Were the Commandos worried...of course they were. They were his family and his best friends since they had met in kindergarten. Poor Jacques was probably wallowing in guilt, thinking (unfortunately correctly) that if he'd been able to pick Steve up that he would be with them. He hoped the others prevented him from shouldering that; it wasn't his fault! How could he have known that his coworker would go into premature labour and that failing to get Steve would cause him to be attacked and transformed into a terrible monster?

Because that's what he was now. A terrible blood-sucking _creature_ who would, like as not, hurt or kill someone in a moment of inattention.

Realizing that he was on the verge of a panic attack, he twisted his expression into a reassuring one in the mirror and took a steadying breath.

"One thing at a time." He told himself before picking up the dropped clothes and putting them on, "don't go borrowing trouble. No one knows how you will and won't be affected by this. Maybe you'll be able to go back to your bookstore and friends with a slight dietary adjustment. Maybe not. One thing at a time. You can do this Steve."

Thus clothed, he steeled himself and left the bathroom and gave an admittedly shaky smile to the waiting Naga.

"So, where to?" He asked.

* * *

><p>Where to was the kitchen.<p>

It probably took more time than necessary as Steve couldn't stop looking or pausing to admire the decor. The hallways were painted in warm fall colours with many paintings of all sorts (from Neo-Classical to Impressionist to post-modernism) hanging from them and the occasional alcove with a piece of pottery or sculpture nestled there. The art enthusiast in Steve couldn't help but stare as many appeared to be original pieces he had never seen before including a stunning Monet and an enormous Botticelli painting that went from ceiling to floor.

Eventually, Erskine took him by the hand and tugged him alone while inquisitively asking what had had him so startled before. The good doctor was fascinated to discover further how the vampire's bite had changed him and began to ask questions, largely focusing on how his vision had changed. When Steve struggled to described colours before and after, the Naga gave a small laugh and admitted he was a little envious as he while he was not terrible nearsighted as snakes are, he sees the world as they do, in infrared.

Their discussion was paused when Erskine turned down a narrow corridor and opened a maple wood door, allowing the smell of baking and the chatter of voices to reach his nose and ears. The kitchen modern and was more warm fall colours with brown of both dark walnut cabinetry and table top and light honey-maple floors, granite counter-top, pale amber and white tiling backsplash, creamy white walls and sleek silver appliances.

But the decor didn't hold his attention long as the three other people in the room did. There was a fairly tall man with dark curls, glasses and a dark purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up cooking something delicious on the stove while seated at the table watching was a tawny gryphon and a beautiful lady with dark brown hair and bright red lips. He would've thought the woman to be human if it were not for the long nine tails absently waving and twitching behind her and the russet fox ears poking up through her curls.

Having heard them, the cooking baritone stopped his story to greet them.

"Hello Abraham," he said before he saw Steve and gave a small laugh "and hello to you too Steve! The Doctor has seen fit to release you from the depths of the infirmary has he?"

Steve shyly nodded, unable to take his eyes away from the pair sitting at the table; it was still a little hard to believe that this was happening and seeing what would have only been myths to him before sitting peacefully at a table was a bit mind-boggling.

"So Steve, the fellow cooking is Bruce, the lovely lady is Margaret though she prefers Peggy and" the Naga said gesturing to each in turn as he pulled out a chair for himself and sitting before continuing playfully, "the overgrown _bird _is James though we all call him Rhodey."

Rhodey (after making an indignant sound and a sportive attempt at snapping Erskine's gesturing hand at being called a _bird) _made a series of clicks and whistles. Peggy then said "Hello, pleased to meet you. He also says Hello and that you're looking better."

Before Steve could say any of the questions that popped into mind at that, Bruce explained. "In order for you to understand the less human-like among us, you'll need to drink some dragon's blood." He then turned off the stove and began to dish first some of the pasta then some pesto chicken into bowls to give to those at the table before continuing. "Which, among its other properties, allows the drinker to understand the speech of 'birds and beasts'. Though be forewarned, most animals do not have much to say and chickens are idiots, don't listen to them. We would've given you some immediately but thought that, given your circumstances, it might be best to wait before giving you more to cope with. It was also thought it would be best to give you time to work on your self control before giving you any kind of blood belonging to some type that lives here."

"Oh." Steve said, somewhat at a loss. "Thank you...wait. A _dragon_?!"

"Yes," Peggy said, biting her lower lip as an amused smile spread across her face. "A dragon. He's a bit of a pain in the ass but is quite friendly in his own way. In fact, Rhodey here is one of his closest friends."

Rhodey let out a few amused clacks with his beak before giving a few chirps and a whistle.

"He says, you see a Naga, a Gryphon and Kitsune together in a kitchen eating chicken pesto pasta and what surprises you is the dragon?"

Steve pulled out a chair of his own, a bit separate from the others, by the counter and near the door (out of smelling range and an easy out) and slumped into it. He numbly accepted a sippy cup of blood that Bruce pulled from the fridge and slid his way, beginning to sip at it while the other grabbed the last plate and went to sit down as well. As he passed, Steve caught a whiff of his scent.

Unlikely the infirmary, the kitchen was filled with a plethora of smells (rather than just the sharp smell of sanitizer and medicine) and Steve was only a little hungry which seemed to dull his sense of smell. But in that moment, he smelt iron and food (like he had before) but where Tony's blood sang off heat, Bruce's smelt...sharp. Angry and wild. He stiffened, feeling the slightest bit of fear before the moment passed and Bruce sat down between Peggy and Rhodey.

He wasn't sure what the other man was, wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ask really, but it definitely wasn't human.

Deciding to leave it as a mystery until Bruce chose to tell him, Steve leaned back on the stool so he was leaning on the wall and watched as the four friends began to eat. It was a little surreal seeing a Gryphon, Naga, Kitsune and whatever Bruce was eat and debate the newest Game of Thrones episode while eating their food.

How was this now his life?

* * *

><p><strong><strong>I can post descriptions of the various mythological creatures that will be appearing in this, would that be something you as a reader would like?<strong>**

****Peggy – ******Kitsune  
><strong>****Rhodey****** - Gryphon**

****Please Review!****


	5. Chapter 5

**AN – I'm so sorry am not reliable! Sorry for the delay, was in my final year of uni and have had a lot on my plate between my part-time job, school readings and essays (around fifteen last semester!) **

**BUT AM DONE MY DEGREE NOW! (Instead gotta job hunt which might actually be worse)**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

><p>"And the whole thing with the Wolves finding Alexandria's map…"<p>

Steve now had a better understanding of _The Walking Dead _then he had before (which was pretty easy to say considering he'd never watched the show), but he was really hoping that they would soon get bored and change the subject. Peggy in particular seemed to very attached to a character called Michonne and was taking every opportunity to defend her against Rhodey (which was bizarre as Steve could only hear half the argument) and Bruce who was playing Devil's Advocate.

It had been a pretty nice evening so far, though conversation seemed centered around various TV shows such as _Bones, Downton Abbey, Corner Gas, Vikings_and _How I Met Your Mother; _all of which were all hotly debated, reminisced and analyzed. It was like a night with the Howling Commandos how they talked and good-naturedly ribbed one another: Bruce because of how he had seen _every_single episode of _Dr. Who_ (which had sparked a debate over which Doctor was best), Peggy because of her 'supposed' crush on actress Lyndsy "Angie" Fonseca, Rhodey because of how he enjoyed watching Nature specials when he thought no one was around and Erskine because of how he would try to solve the mystery on crime dramas before the detectives did. Feeling hungry again (again!) and noting the debate showed no signs of slowing, he went over to where he saw Bruce pick out some blood for him earlier and poured himself a cup. Taking a sip, he just about spat it back out again and after swallowing gingerly he looked at the label. _Komodo Dragon. _Right. Seemed pretty much any cold-blooded animal's blood was out as he had hated any kind of fish blood, snake blood and now overgrown lizard blood.

Yuck.

However, not wanting to be wasteful, he tilted his head back, plugged his nose and opened his throat so that he barely tasted it. Putting the contaminated cup by the sink after a moment's indecision (should it be in the dishwasher with normal dishes?), he went to the cupboard and grabbed the first non-see-through cup he could and grabbed the first mammalian blood he could find. He poured himself a cup and took a sip...better. Though it might be better hot…

Deciding to try that another day, Steve went back to his seat and watched the debate unfold further, this time it being Erskine and Rhodey arguing while Peggy's fox ears seemed to twitch with amusement.

By the time he had finished his (deceivingly large) mug, he felt full. Really full, so full and warm. He leaned his chin on his palm and blinked slowly, watching the goings on as the debate turned into an arm wrestling match between the Doctor and Kitsune with a newly arrived and resigned Jarvis acting as referee.

The next thing he knew was the soft murmuring of voices before he hears Peggy crisp accent proclaim that she's got him and then he was being lifted up and moved until he was being carried piggy-back.

Feeling sleepy and warm, he buried his face into her shoulder and hair. She smelt good; just ever so slightly of spices and herbs and campfire. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted it was a good thing he wasn't hungry as he felt his incisors lengthen and he was so close already to an artery but no, he was full and he was warm and he didn't want to.

Enjoying the contact, he made an unhappy sound as he was gently dropped onto a soft mattress and tucked in but was soon out like a light again.

* * *

><p>The next morning, he slowly woke; blinking his eyes blearily until the room sharpened into focus and rolled out of bed feeling oddly lethargic.<p>

For a moment he was very confused before he remembered yesterday.

Right.

He was now a vampire. He was in the house of some eccentric man (?) named Tony, along with a gryphon called Rhodey, a nine-tailed fox who goes by Peggy, a ghost called Jarvis, a naga called Erskine and whatever Bruce was.

Not seeing anyone else around and feeling ravenous; he grabbed his blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself before sleepily retracing the route Dr. Erskine had taken him on the day before and soon found himself in the kitchen.

Grabbing another one of those enormous mugs and a bag of blood (fox this time), he began to eat and found that the more he drank, the more alert he felt. The second mug he decided to follow through with his earlier idea of microwaving it, which he promptly did after finding a small ceramic plate to put overtop to prevent splatter.

Mmmm, hot was better.

It was at this point that he finally noticed the Naga at the table with a plate of half eaten eggs and fried meat of some kind, watching him bemusedly. Noting that he was finally aware of his presence, Doctor Erskine have a wave and said "Good Morning! How did you sleep?"

"Good thank you," Steve replied, crossing the kitchen and pulling out a chair. "And you?"

"Good, good." Erskine replied absently, "You looked almost like a zombie shuffling in but now you look like you could go toe-to-toe with our resident Spartoi!"

Steve nodded ruefully, "I felt better as soon as I had some food in me."

"Ah." Erskine nodded, "Your eyes were red too like they were yesterday afternoon and they are now gradually fading into your normal blue. Your metabolism may have increased or you might simply require more sustenance since you are essentially on a liquid diet. Something we will have to look into together."

Once again Steve felt a slight twinge at that but it was not as if the good Doctor could really phrase it any other way and, if everything he had been told was true, then they were breaking new ground while trying to help him as best they can.

"I hope we did not bore you with our talk last night; both Peggy and Rhodey have been away from some time and are just catching up on favourite shows and we got a little carried away. I believe we may even owe you an apology, none of us thought of how quickly you might flag considering it was only your first day of being awake again."

"No worries," Steve replied. "I hadn't even noticed I was tired until I was already practically asleep!"

They finished up their breakfasts in amiable silence while Erskine checked his phone and then asked, "If it is no trouble, I would like to accompany you back to the infirmary. There are some things I would like to talk to you about."

Steve nodded, swallowing the last of his breakfast before standing. Wasn't like he had anything else going on, so, putting away his own dishes, Steve then followed Dr. Erskine back through the beautifully decorated corridors. Steve hadn't noticed before but the infirmary doors were oak with six stained glass panels; each done in a different style, filled with vibrant colour and with more detail then Steve had considered possible due to the medium.

The first one resembled the style of Hieroglyphics and depicted a young boy with a plaited sidelock carrying a crook and flail with the eye of Horus and an ankh hovering in front of him. The second resembled some Assyrian art he had seen (though not quite) and depicted a middle-aged woman with a horned hat, long shawl and skirt holding a scroll in one hand and some sort of plant in the other. The final panel on the left door was more modern looking and depicted a handsome man with a wreath of flowers around his neck, an elaborate headpiece and four hands: one holding a large ornate vial, another a leech, the third what appeared to be a conch shell and lastly what could be a small spiral galaxy was spinning around a finger on the last hand.

The right doors panels were no less elaborate then the first three with the top left depicting what Steve perceived to be an aged woman with jaguar ears, ornate earrings and a snake headpiece carrying a water jug and with an obsidian knife at her side in what was either the style of Ancient Aztec or Mayan art. The following panel was definitely Greek and showed an older man in a toga and carrying a snake-entwined staff with five young woman standing around him, each offering a hand as though to support him. The last panel with done in traditional Chinese style and showed a middle aged man with a long beard, crown, and red and gold dragon-covered robes gesturing imperiously.*

Erskine noticed his interest so as he pushed open the beautiful doors he explained, "Each panel has a deity of medicine from cultures that have aided in the development of modern practices. Considering most of our kind live isolated and in hiding, Tony decided to build this house and, more specifically, this room in order for it to serve as a communal space and a hospital of sorts; it is the only one of its kind on the continent that I am aware of. As such, despite not subscribing to any of these beliefs himself, he called in as many of older friendlies he knew who yet hang tightly to these ancient faiths and asked if they wouldn't ask their gods for their protection and assistance for this place. So that any entering the room who cannot see the wards and charms woven into the very stone will know that this is a sanctuary of helping and healing."

The Naga reached out to tap the bottom left panel, "and despite being a creature of science, it gives me much peace of mind to see Dhanvantari guarding the way."

Steve couldn't help but crane his head to keep the panels in view as they continued on into the room, only turning around when he heard another set of footsteps.

Near his bed was another humanoid, one with golden-tanned skin who straightened at their entry and looked away from the charts he was examining before adjusting his simple wire full-frame glasses. He was wearing scrubs and a lab coat, had warm brown eyes and was probably middle aged considering his short black hair had largely gone silver and was balding. Steve would've thought him to be a human if it weren't for comparatively large, pointed ears he had and the sort of other-worldly aura he was exuding.

"Ah! Dr. Yinsen!" Dr. Erskine said, pleased. "You are once more two steps ahead of me! I was just thinking I should ask Jarvis to come get you."

The newly-named Yinsen laughed wryly before replying, "I'm afraid my curiosity got the better of me once I heard that young Mr. Rogers here had been cleared to be around the less cold-blooded of us."

That said, he then turned to Steve and smoothly offered his hand, "Hello Mr. Rogers, my name is Ho Yinsen; I am the other Doctor who has been responsible for your treatment here. How are you feeling?"

"Please, call me Steve." Shaking the offered hand, Steve replied. "Okay I think, this has all been very overwhelming."

"I imagine so." Yinsen replied before gesturing at the bed. "If you wouldn't mind taking a seat, there are a few things would like to discuss with you."

Steve sat, settling his blanket around his shoulders, as Dr. Yinsen began. "First and foremost Steve, I would like to offer our collective apologies. When you were brought it, we had no idea what had happened to you and felt it necessary to find and obtain a copy of your medical records. We would not have violated your privacy had it not been so necessary to determine what your baseline had been and we made every effort to ensure that only Dr. Erskine, Dr. Ross and myself saw them. You have yet to meet Dr. Ross but she works at one of the hospitals in the city and was the one who got us the copy in the first place."

Steve felt a little embarrassed (they knew _everything_) and betrayed at the confession but understood under the circumstances why it have been considered necessary. The fact that they told him when they easily could have kept it a secret also made him feel a little better about it. After a moment of consideration, he gave a small smile and said, "Thank you for telling me, I forgive you. I don't really like it but I understand why you did it."

At this, Dr. Erskine gave a relieved smile while Dr. Yinsen tilted his head in acknowledgement before he continued. "Thank you. Secondly, Dr. Erskine and myself decided early on that, should you be stable and amicable, that we run a few tests every five hours or so in order to establish a new baseline for your new body. Up until this point, we've been keeping to as few non-invasive methods as possible in order to just monitor your condition but now that you are awake and with your permission, I think now would be as good a time as any to begin."

Steve asked "What kinds of tests?"

Dr. Erskine smoothly took over as Dr. Yinsen went to go get some equipment. "Your standard physical: looking in your ears, reflexes test, and that sort of thing. Bloodwork and a urine sample would also be good and we would also like to do an x-ray, a CT-scan and an MRI just to cover as many bases as we can. If you prefer, before we will do any test, it will be explained as to what it is and its purpose."

Didn't sound like anything he hadn't done before so Steve gave his consent and spent the next hour being weighed and measured, having blood drawn, his mouth swabbed, peeing in a cup and going through all the standard tests for his throat, eyes, nose, ears, abdomen, skin and whatnot. After that Dr. Erskine led him to another room where they did a front and then a side x-ray, a CT-scan and an MRI while Dr. Yinsen went to go process the results of the other tests.

He was tying his shoes on the bed when Dr. Yinsen made a surprised noise from the bench he was working at and gestured the Naga and Steve over.

"I understand Steve that your background is not in science so I will try to explain as simply as I can. You recall how the swab test was to get a sample of your DNA, yes? So, how this test is performed is to gather a sample then to use something called PCR to stretch it and then it is separated into known segments in a paternity test this is then compared to another sample to see how many markers then match. So we had some hair samples from the shirt you were wearing when you were attacked as our comparative…" He then points to the side where there is a computer showing two charts with barred lines of various thicknesses and tint with the one of the left possessing a few extra bars and then to a readout with a series of numbers on it. "So, to be blunt, humans and most humanoids have 23 pairs of chromosomes, you don't. To compare…"

He clicked the mouse a few times and two more charts joined the first ones. "The one on the left is my own DNA. I am what is known as a Light Elf: aside from my kinds longevity, ears and rare healing gift, we are pretty identical to humans as you can possibly see if you look at your 'Before' chart and my own. Then there is Abraham's: he is part snake, who have 36 pairs of chromosomes, but he has 48 which is pretty standard for human and animal hybrids. You can see this because his 'ladder' is longer. Now, if you compare your 'After' results, you will note that your chart looks a little more similar to his with what appears to be 39 pairs of chromosomes."

Steve felt a shiver go down his back as he squinted at the charts that the Doctor was pointing at and tried to see it, but, if he hadn't known which was his to start, he wouldn't be able to guess which was which. But, here it was, more proof that he was not human anymore.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed (again) and not wanting to have another go at an anxiety attack, Steve politely excused himself and left the infirmary only to immediately find Bruce outside carrying a mop and bucket. Wanting to get out of his head, he asked for something, anything, to do.

Which was how he found himself assisting in the weekly cleaning of the house. He'd first been assigned to cleaning all of the windows and mirrors that were in the common areas of the house. However, with each pane, he found himself getting more and more stressed until, a half hour later, he was just about ready to crawl out of his skin. He barely noted Jarvis floating by and was unsurprised when a moment later Bruce was in front of him, gently thieving the cloth, water and Windex and getting him to sit down before returning with a fresh sippy cup of rabbit blood. Steve then spent the next ten minutes alternating between being coached through various breathing techniques and sipping at the blood. Once he felt better, he passed the cup back and made to get his supplies back but Bruce just gave him a look and instead offered him a damp cloth along with an order to dust off decorations, tables and the like and to avoid looking at his reflection.

After that, Steve felt the usual calm that came over him when cleaning arrive and settle into his bones so that, by the time he was in the living room, he was feeling much better. So much so that when he found a coat and a few pairs of shoes jammed in the corner, instead of fretting about if it was appropriate or no, he simply went to go put them away in the front foyer coat closet.

Yet, when he opened it, he was aghast to see that it was a mess and, after a few seconds of fidgeting, gave in and set about organizing it. First he hung up all the coats and hats that had fallen before tackling the veritable mountain of shoes that was piled in the centre instead of neatly put away on the large rack that stretched along the sides and the back of the bottom half of the closet. Soon some semblance of order emerged with all the tall rain boots, winter boots and vicious high heels on the top rack, the runners, flats, sandals and smaller heels in the cubbies of rows one through to four with row five being only slippers (he really wondered who owned the dinosaur ones that roared when jostled) and the bottom row housed the steel-toed work boots and the dirtiest of the shoes. There were at least forty pairs of all sizes and it made him wonder how many other … folks lived here (and how many more didn't wear shoes!). He had almost finished when he was startled by a vicious, albeit quiet, roar. He froze, his hand outstretched to reach a tennis show that was partially tucked under a scarf and looked around. When he didn't see anything and feeling a bit silly, he reached again only to hear the same threatening growl.

What in the world?

By moving to the left to allow more hallway light to light up the far corner and craning his neck, he was surprised to see five tiny hippos (two babies) nestled in the soft fabric of the scarf.

Well then.

Not knowing what else to do, he tracked down Peggy and Bruce who were cleaning in the kitchen; the kitsune cleaning the stove and the brunet man washing the floor.

As soon as he found them, he blurted, "Why are there hippopotamuses in the front closet?"

Peggy and Bruce started and exchanged a look before Peggy put her rag down on the counter and pulled him out of the room while asking "What size?"

"What _size?_" Steve asks, his voice a little high. "…this is normal?!"

"Not exactly." Peggy said, her ears flicking and looking a little apprehensive. "Depends on what _size _they are."

Right, she had asked _him_ that. "…They were tiny. Really tiny. Like the size of my palm."

"Oh good," Peggy smiled, her ears relaxing. "The Witch's Son messed up a spell only the one time but one time was fully sufficient. A herd of hippos do not take kindly to being suddenly transported into a small room…"

"So the small sort is normal? Why are there tiny hippos bedding down in scarves?" Steve asked plaintively, hoping he would soon get to the point where surprise gave way to apathy because he wasn't sure how much more his heart could take.

Or not he supposed considering his new found biology but still.

"They're North American House Hippos," Peggy replied, amused. "They're pretty timid unless you're in their space and they're nocturnal. They love peanut butter crumbs and are also useful at keeping the more irritating kinds of creatures, like gremlins, out as they are pretty territorial. Tony will be happy to hear we got a colony again."

Steve was glad they were at the closet again and that Peggy now was leaning over to look inside as he really didn't know what to say or how to react to that.

Deciding just to go with it, now reassured that the hippos weren't a danger to him, he followed Peggy's lead and helped remove each of the grouchy creatures into one of two baskets. From there they moved the small nest in addition to particularly loved looking scarves and mitts to the kitchen and into a medium-sized padded box in the pantry.

Ignoring the surreal factor that was tiny hippos, it was really cute watching them climb out of the baskets and sniff curiously at the box before exploring it and the small fountain beside it.

* * *

><p>The house cleaned, Bruce clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder and asked if he wanted to walk the dog with him as apparently could always use an extra hand and that way Steve could also get some fresh air.<p>

Tugging on the light spring jacket Bruce handed him, he followed the other man out the side door by the kitchen and into a small courtyard.

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly, sighing in delight at the crisp evening air and at the crickets' noise. It was almost dusk and there was probably only about an hour's light remaining; Steve couldn't help but wonder if Bruce had asked him now in order to avoid finding out how he now reacted to sun. Regardless, Steve felt something inside of him relax and had to suppress the urge just to run around for a bit: he was outside!

To distract himself, he took in his surroundings: two sides of the courtyard were the walls to the house made of old stone with creeping ivy and flowers growing alongside of it, the side to his right had an iron-wrought gate with stone walls on other side that appeared to lead to a garden and then the far side, the side Bruce was walking towards, had a tall wooden fence and gate.

Steve had to jog a little to catch up and once he drew level again, Bruce began to talk. "So I feel like I should've said this to start but like pretty much every living thing at this house, our dog is not what you would call normal."

Steve nodded while Bruce fished out his keys and unlocked the padlock on the gate before he paused, a cacophony of barking greeting the sound. "He, or they I suppose, are a good dog but very excitable and fairly large and only somewhat trained: there's a reason they haven't been allowed in the house."

Bruce then pushed open the gate and gently pushed Steve inside; as he came around the bend, Steve caught his first look at the dog and _holy shit._

The dog was a Doberman, was still pretty lanky (clearly still an adolescent) but the size of a Newfoundland dog. He was pretty perky, yipping excitedly and shuffling back and forth, showing off his good colouring, clear eyes, uncropped floppy ears, a wagging tail and not one but _three _heads. The one on the right was leaning forward to sniff at Steve, the middle one was nosing at a ball at the ground and the last had a food bowl in its mouth.

The one on the right sneezed and then gave a big doggy grin which prompted Steve to slowly bring his hand up to offer ear scratches, much to the dog's delight, and soon the other two heads were doing their own inspection before pressing closer, shamelessly asking for attention. Steve turned slightly to ask Bruce what their names were but was surprised to see the man standing back at the gate. Squinting his eyes, Steve could see the other looked nervous and a bit resigned – was he afraid of dogs? That couldn't be right because then why would he be the one to walk him?

"Bruce? Why're you all the over there? Aren't you gonna introduce me to this handsome fella?"

Bruce gave a sigh and came into the pen and immediately all three heads perked up then lowered slightly and his tail dropped though it still wagged wildly and the middle head bent down to push his ball over to where Bruce was now standing.

"Aw, you're a good boy aren't you?" Bruce murmured, rubbing a gently hand on each head and offered his hand to be sniffed to the left hand who was flicking his tongue who then promptly began to lick at Bruce. "So from right to left, that's Dummy, Butterfingers and You. So, long story short, Tony found an abandoned Cerberus puppy and officially decided to keep him as they are renowned for guarding things but unofficially because he is a giant softy. He is also terrible at naming things, especially when he's trying to pretend he really doesn't care."

Right… that awkward affection didn't seem too far off from his own impression of the man.

As Bruce pulled out the leash he had tucked in his pocket and unraveled it, showing a long length of paracord that then broke into three smaller lengths with a metal clip on the end which he then snapped onto each of the three collars.

Once they were attached, they were off through the gate and into the garden: if one could actually call it that. As soon as they passed through the gates, Steve couldn't help but stare unashamedly at the sheer diversity and size of the plants and trees that grew around a twisty gravel path. His mother had loved to garden to the point where there had eventually been only a small patch of their yard not converted into part of her fruit, vegetable, herb and/or flower garden.

It was enormous too, Steve thought, as they walked along the never-ending path with a happy Dummy, Butterfingers and You prancing along just a little bit behind them. They didn't talk at all and Steve felt the parts of him that had relaxed when cleaning, decompress altogether at the quiet.

When they came into sight of the house and the glowing porchlights about forty minutes later, Steve paused as a thought occurred to him then got Bruce's attention. "Would it be okay if I stayed out a little longer? I don't want to go back inside just yet."

Bruce thought for a moment then nodded. "Though don't be out too much longer; you regained consciousness only yesterday and today was the first day that you spent up and about. Don't overdo it, alright?"

Steve nodded and gave a quick wave as Bruce turned with a now sleepy-looking Cerberus at his heels and went back to the kennel. Thrusting both hands into his pockets, he began to wander back the way he came; he was surprisingly unbothered by his lack of sight, trusting his ears and nose to get him back to the pond he'd noticed earlier with lilac and honeysuckle growing nearby.

It took him a few minutes but soon he found the rather large pond again, illuminated slightly by the moonlight that sneaked through the thick foliage of the oak and willow trees. Taking his shoes off and rolling up the cuffs of his pants, he waded out to the large rock that was only around a meter or so away from shore and climbed up on it to dangle his feet in the water.

There was a park by his place with a creek running through it and on days when Steve needed to think, he would walk off the path to where it bent and just sit, just like this, and let his thoughts go. It had helped him through thinking of thesis statements, through getting over artist's block and though finding peace and a quiet place to mourn when his mother had passed. It wasn't _his _creek, of course, but it should do nicely.

He was drawn from his thoughts though when he heard splashes and felt something brush up against his foot (was it a fish?) then again when something wet and solid placed itself on his thigh. Startled, he instinctively scooted backwards, which of course caused him to fall off of his rock and into the water. Righting himself, spluttering, he froze as he suddenly found himself staring at the too-close faces of two gorgeous women: despite his nightvision, it was too dark to make out the colour of their hair or eyes but the night did nothing to hide the shine of the one's too wide eyes or the other's grin filled with sharp teeth.

* * *

><p>* Gods picked for the door are from cultures with a significant impact on modern medicine (in order of mention above)<p>

_Heka_ – is the Ancient Egyptian god of healing and magic  
><em>Nintinugga<em> – is the Ancient Babylonian goddess of healing  
><em>Dhanvantari <em>– Is one of Vishnu's avatars from Hindu tradition and is the physician of the devas and the god of Ayurvedic medicine.  
><em>Ixchel – <em>is the Ancient Mayan goddess of healing and midwifery (also of weaving and rainbows)  
><em>Asclepius – <em>is the god of medicine in Ancient Greek mythos and has five daughters: Hygieia (health, cleanliness, sanitation), Aglæa (beauty, glory, and adornment), Panacea (universal remedy) Panacea (the goddess of Universal remedy), Iaso (recuperation from illness) and Aceso (healing process)  
><em>Baosheng Dadi <em> (Pao Sheng Ta Ti)– is the Ancient Chinese god of medicine

The DNA thing is my best understanding (am a humanities graduate) of what the tests look like and how they work but would welcome any corrections.

So House Hippos are not from traditional mythology but are instead a modern creation from a 90's PSA encouraging kids to think about what they saw on TV. The commercial proceeds to tell kids about little house hippos that live in people's kitchens and let me tell you, I was incredibly disappointed they were not real.

Here's a youtube handy link: watch?v=NBfi8OEz0rA

**I can post descriptions of the various mythological creatures that will be appearing in this, would that be something you as a reader would like?**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


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